


Can’t Tell Where You End and I Begin

by sparksfly7



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Catharsis, Celebrations, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksfly7/pseuds/sparksfly7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Messilla fics</p><p>Latest: <i>Forget Me Not</i> (ficlet for Leo's birthday)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling [Into Your Arms]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Leo?” David calls softly. It’s late, and Leo should be asleep, except David knows that it’s _Leo_ and there’s no way he can sleep after a game like that. After a defeat like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Barcelona's 1-3 defeat to Real Madrid in the semi-final of the Copa del Rey (2-4 on aggregate).

It’s pitch dark when David opens the door to Leo’s house. He almost trips over something – a pair of shoes, he thinks – before he manages to find the light switch, turning it on.

“Leo?” David calls softly. It’s late, and Leo should be asleep, except David knows that it’s _Leo_ and there’s no way he can sleep after a game like that. After a defeat like that.

“Leo, it’s David,” he says, and then falls silent, because a) he doesn’t know what to say and b) he knows that if Leo wants to respond to him, he will and any more words would only make him irritated, not forthcoming.

There’s no reply, but David doesn’t let that deter him. He walks quietly into the living room. The TV is turned on but muted, some kind of sitcom playing, one of those about teenagers who are only concerned about who’s dating who and what clothes are going out of season.

David doesn’t think that he was ever like that. For most of his life, football has been his love. He would marry it if he could. (In a way, he already feels like he’s married to it, the pitch practically a second home to him, his body attuned to the feel of the grass beneath his boots and the sound of the ball hitting the net, his heart soaring the highest when the fruits of his and his teammates’ labours have resulted in a gleaming trophy.)

Then Leo came along, and David was surprised that yes, he could love a person as much as he loves football, even more, maybe. (But Leo _is_ football, isn’t he? In the way that he runs with the ball like it’s an extension of his body, the way that he doesn’t seem to be truly happy unless he’s playing football, in the way that he seems to belong on the pitch more than in David’s arms.)

David turns the TV off, almost wanting to throw the remote across the room, just for the sake of it. He turns towards the couch, and that’s when he sees Leo, hidden in a cocoon of blankets, only the top of his head visible.

“Leo,” David says quietly.

Leo doesn’t reply, not that David had expected him to. He would almost think that Leo is asleep, except he knows, instinctively, assuredly, that Leo isn’t.

“Don’t worry,” David says. “I’m not going to try to get you to talk.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. Since when has anybody been able to make you do anything?”

Leo still doesn’t do anything, but he shifts just the slightest bit, and David takes that as a positive sign. He’ll take anything right now.

“Move over,” David says, throwing his coat carelessly onto the ground, his scarf joining it. The couch isn’t exactly big enough for two, but David knows that they’ll fit. Leo doesn’t move, but David doesn’t let that discourage him, just settles onto the couch, nudges Leo with his knee until he shuffles back enough so that David can fit.

“You’re going to fall off,” Leo says, the first thing he’s said since the end of the game.

“I’ve already fallen,” David says, and then pulls the blanket away from Leo’s face so he can look at him. Leo’s paler than usual, his dark eyes standing out like pools of ink, lines of exhaustion visible on his young face like the work of a clumsy artist.

“Sleep,” is all David says, and Leo closes his eyes and burrows closer to David, until they’re right against each other with not a millimeter of space between them. David can feel Leo’s heartbeat, a steady but fragile rhythm, against his chest, can hear each breath Leo takes, so quiet it’s almost inaudible, like he’s trying to fade away.

“Sorry,” Leo suddenly whispers. “I’m sorry.” He could be apologizing for a number of things, like ignoring their attempts to talk to him all night, or ignoring David in particular, but David knows that the apology is really for the game. For the loss. And for how Leo had, in his opinion, failed them.

The apology isn’t even to him, really, or at least not just to him, but it’s something that Leo needs to get out, because he’s always put everything on his shoulders, and no matter how hard David’s tried to get him to share some of the weight, he refused – or maybe, he found it impossible to accept – and continued to carry everything himself.

“It’s okay,” David says, finally, pressing his lips against Leo’s temple. He doesn’t bother saying _you don’t have to be sorry_ or _it wasn’t your fault_ , because Leo has remarkably selective hearing and he wouldn’t take in the words anyway.

“Sleep,” David repeats, and tightens his arms around Leo, an impenetrable fortress. He wishes that he could protect Leo, shield him from all the criticism and pressure and most of all, from himself, but David’s always been more of a sword than a shield.

He hums a soft lullaby under his breath, a song that his mother used to sing him to sleep with, and Leo gradually relaxes in his arms, the tension slowly draining out of him.

“I just wish that,” David starts, when he’s sure that Leo’s asleep, and then he stops and swallows. “I wish that I could give to you what football gives to you. I wish I could mean to you what football means to you.”

He sighs and smiles a little wistfully. “But that’s never going to happen, is it? Because you’re Leo and this is the way you are.” He tucks the blanket a little tighter around Leo, making sure he’s covered, that he’s as warm and secure as he can be, in this little piece of a world that’s made of just the two of them.

“And that’s okay,” David continues quietly, his eyelids drooping. Leo’s not the only tired one. “That’s okay.”

He slips off into sleep, chin dropping against Leo’s shoulder, hand fisted in Leo’s shirt, as if he can keep him there by holding on tightly enough. He doesn’t see the way Leo’s eyes open, dark but bright, and fix on him, filled with more than words can ever say.

“You do,” Leo says simply, and then he curls into David and joins him in a land free of doubts and weights.


	2. Tú Me Haces Feliz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hmm.” David closes his eyes, moves a little closer to Leo, and buries his face into Leo’s neck. He feels tired, not quite used to playing ninety minutes yet, but in a good way. In an accomplished way, having done what he set out to do, and even a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebration fic for [their amazing performance against Rayo Vallecano](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3f82WOc5iI)

David had his legs wrapped around Leo in the match, and it’s Leo’s turn to wrap his legs around David, as they end up in a tangle of limbs on the bed.

“You happy?” David asks, although it’s rather pointless. Leo’s smile speaks for itself.

“We both scored,” Leo says. “So yeah, I’m happy.”

“Hmm.” David closes his eyes, moves a little closer to Leo, and buries his face into Leo’s neck. He feels tired, not quite used to playing ninety minutes yet, but in a good way. In an accomplished way, having done what he set out to do, and even a little more.

“I’m happy too,” David adds, voice muffled against Leo’s skin. Leo smells like the pitch after a rainfall, like grass and rejuvenation.

“You sound like you’re going to fall asleep,” Leo notes. He doesn’t sound tired at all, which is to be expected, because it’s Leo, and nothing gives him energy like a match well-played.

“I probably am,” David admits, rolling over, onto his back, so he can look at Leo. It’s dark, but he can see enough, his eyes attuned to Leo, to his expressions, his subtle movements. “We can’t all have as much energy as you.”

Leo just shrugs. “Football makes me happy,” he says simply, which makes David smile, because of course he knows that, anyone and everyone knows that, least of all someone who actually knows Leo, who sees the way his face lights up after they score and quite literally feels the joy exuding from him after a post-goal hug.

“I think I’ve noticed.”

Leo reaches for him, finds his hand in the darkness, and twines their fingers together. “And you scored,” he adds.

“Don’t make it sound like such a blue moon occasion,” David says wryly, but he’s not offended. Leo doesn’t mean it that way.

“No, I mean,” Leo says, and then he frowns. “You scored, and I gave the assist. And you gave me two assists. We scored together. And – it makes me happy.”

David’s expression softens. _You make me happy too_ , he wants to say, almost says, but he settles for pressing a kiss against Leo’s lips, soft and lingering.

“Now let the old man get some rest,” David says, a yawn splitting his next words. “Between football and you jumping my bones every day, I’m going to break something.”

“You’re not old,” Leo says, eyebrows furrowing, the slightest hint of red dusting his cheekbones at the _jumping my bones_ part.

“That’s because you keep me young,” David says, and throws the blanket over them. Leo curls into him; he sleeps like a cat seeking warmth, and David always does his best to provide it. (It’s one of the few things Leo needs that David can actually give.)

“Good night,” David murmurs, brushing his lips against Leo’s hair, and falls asleep to the lullaby of Leo’s heartbeat.


	3. Messy, Maravilloso, Love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Crackòvia ships Messilla. David isn’t amused with the way he’s portrayed, and Leo’s more than just amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn’t know (like me), Bruno Ono plays both Cristiano and David on Crackòvia, and Crackòvia David’s trademark phrase is “maravilloso”.
> 
> The format of the title is inspired by "Crazy, Stupid, Love." (2011), only vaguely with their names incorporated, because I'm lame like that.

“What are you doing?” David asks, giving a strange look to Leo, who’s staring at the TV like a six-year-old hooked on Dora.

Leo doesn’t reply. David doesn’t know if Leo’s ignoring him, or he just didn’t hear him.

“What, did they make a Lego Xbox game with us or something?”

David walks up to Leo to look at the TV screen, and he freezes, fingers clenching in the couch cushions, eyes fixed, mouth agape. He opens his mouth to say something like _What the hell?_ , torn between laughter and…he doesn’t even know what. In the end, he closes his mouth, because he has no idea what to say.

What are you supposed to say when a TV show made to poke fun of your life shows you and your boyfriend in an obviously satirical – but still startlingly reflective – scene of ‘romance’?

“I think they’re pretty smart,” Leo says, and David turns his blank look on him. “Well, don’t you think so?”

“You call that smart?” David asks, jabbing a finger at the screen.

Leo smiles, faintly. “It’s not like they actually know.”

David grunts, not exactly affirmatively or negatively. “I don’t do that,” he says, with a petulant edge in his voice.

“Do what?” Leo asks, looking confused.

David makes a waving gesture. “You know, get on my knees and—that. Why do I look so pathetic there? And you’re totally thinking _what a loser, I hope he gets out of my face_. They didn’t capture us at all.”

“I think they’re pretty smart,” Leo repeats.

“You’re spending too much time with Piqué,” David mutters. “The things you say now…”

“I’ve always talked like this,” Leo says. “You just didn’t notice for a while.”

“I guess I was too caught up in Messimania,” David says, with a grin.

“Messimania?” Leo blinks. “What’s that?”

“You know, when a new player joins the team and fawns all over you,” David says. “Fawns all over being on the same team as you and playing with you,” he elaborates.

Leo just shrugs. David knows Leo doesn’t like it when that happens; he wants to be treated as a teammate, not an idol; a player to respect, not to worship. Needless to say, that doesn’t always happen, because he _is_ Leo Messi, all whirlwind goals and pinpoint passes, Ballon d’Ors and broken records, and sometimes it’s hard for people to look underneath that to _Leo_ underneath.

David’s always found it easier than most, and he doesn’t know why, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. Not with Leo sitting here on his couch in a pair of worn sweatpants and one of David’s shirts, watching a comical yet strangely apt parody of their lives play out on TV.

“And now?” Leo asks, strangely expectant, and it takes a moment for David to realize he’s still talking about the ‘Messimania’ comment.

“Now I have Leomania,” David says simply.

“Leomania,” Leo repeats, sounding like he’s tasting the word, rolling it around in his mouth to see how it fits. “And that means…”

 _When someone fawns all over_ you, David thinks, but he just smiles and says, “You know.”

Leo smiles back, everything that needs to be said between them spelled out clearly in his eyes, and then he reaches for his water.

“Wait,” David says, and Leo stops. “I want to tell you something, Leo.”

He pauses, meaningfully, deliberately, before shifting closer to Leo and getting onto one knee. Leo stares at him, eyes slightly wide. David puts his hand on Leo’s, thumb brushing over his knuckles, his wrist, feeling his pulse flutter underneath his skin like a hummingbird.

“I want you to know that I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

He waits for a moment, wondering if Leo will say or do something, but Leo stays silent and still, staring at David like he’s going to tell him the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.

“And…”

David stops again, swallowing, his throat suddenly going dry. He had started this with completely light and mocking intentions, wanting to make fun of Crackòvia, but as he copies Bruno Ono saying those seemingly ‘lame’ sentimental things, he realizes that he’s not acting. Not really, because he does think about Leo a lot, he wants to hold onto Leo, and have him stare at him like that, like there’s nothing in the world more important than what he’s about to say.

And. He loves Leo. There’s nothing exaggerated or fake about that. Nothing whatsoever. Even if Crackòvia is mocking them and their relationship (that they don’t know anything about, or so he hopes), they have gotten a lot right.

And that should terrify or perhaps even anger David, but it just makes him feel…

He doesn’t know. It just makes him feel, period.

“And that you love me?” Leo prompts, and it should be all good fun and jokes, but there’s something about his voice that tells David it’s not a joke at all.

“I think Bruno Ono already said it for me,” David says wryly.

“Bruno Ono plays Ronaldo too,” Leo says, wrinkling his nose.

David can’t help but laugh. He gets up, rubbing his knee slightly (it is not comfortable to kneel like that on hardwood), and Leo brushes his fingers over David’s leg, a gentle sweep that eases his discomfort.

“Way to ruin the mood,” David says, but he pulls Leo closer by his collar to kiss him, slips his tongue into Leo’s mouth to trace all the words that he didn’t say, so they can leave behind their sweet taste in Leo’s mouth, slide down his throat and fill his stomach with warmth.

“David?”

“Hmm?”

Leo grins at him, mischief and affection clear in his eyes. “You’re a horrible actor.”

David gives an acquiescent hum. “Who said I’m acting?”

Then he pushes Leo back against the couch and kisses him soundly, lips and tongue and teeth, heat pooling in the air between them, sending live sparks flaring where their skin touches.

“I’m maravilloso,” David breathes against Leo’s lips, and Leo laughs his agreement.


	4. I can't sleep til you're next to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is holding a bottle of Ambien, wondering if he should take one (he’s been having trouble falling asleep lately), when Leo walks into the room.
> 
> “Don’t do it,” is the first thing Leo says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the game against Levante, during which David missed a penalty.
> 
> Title comes from [Insomnia](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9m555jHRMEo) by Craig David.

David is holding a bottle of Ambien, wondering if he should take one for his sleeping troubles, when Leo walks into the room.

“Don’t do it,” is the first thing Leo says.

“What?” David blinks at him.

Leo’s eyes, wide and slightly alarmed, go from him to the bottle in his hands, and David almost bursts out laughing when he gets it.

“Jesus,” David gets out between almost wheezing laughter, holding a hand to his stomach. “What’d you think – that I was going to kill myself?”

Leo doesn’t say anything, but the faintest hint of red rises above his cheekbones. “No.”

“Don’t worry, Leo,” David assures Leo, with mock seriousness. “I promise I’m not suicidal.”

Then, as if to cement his point, he carelessly flings the bottle away. He’ll deal with his insomnia in a better way.

“I don’t think you’re suicidal,” Leo says, frowning faintly, and it almost sets David off laughing again.

He can’t remember the last time he found something so funny. It shouldn’t even be funny, to be honest. Maybe it should actually be closer to an insult at his mental state, but he doesn’t feel insulted, just amused.

“I really don’t,” Leo says, firmer this time.

“Okay,” David says, nodding. “Look, if I didn’t want to kill myself when I broke my leg, I’m not going to want to kill myself because I missed a penalty.”

“Don’t talk about death so much,” Leo says, a furrow between his eyebrows.

“You brought it up,” David says, even though technically, he was the one who did.

“I did not mention death at all,” Leo says, with such childish sullenness in his voice that David can’t help but grin.

“Okay, fine, you didn’t,” David concedes. “I’m just joking around. Don’t get all riled up.”

“You would know about being riled up,” Leo mutters.

“What?”

“Why are you taking sleeping pills?” Leo asks, looking at him with his clear, steady eyes.

“Because I can’t sleep,” David says, like someone explaining a simple concept to a small child.

If Leo’s annoyed by his tone, he doesn’t show it. “And why can’t you sleep?”

“Tonight – you should know.”

“We won the game anyway, and even if we didn’t, it doesn’t affect the league. Not really.”

“And if it was you and I was telling you these things, how would you react?” David points out.

Leo’s silence is enough of an answer.

“Come here,” David says, patting the mattress.

“Sometimes I can’t sleep either,” Leo offers, settling onto the bed beside David, leaning into him.

“Yeah?” David asks, even though he already knows the answer, even though he’s spent many nights watching a sleepless Leo staring at the ceiling, no doubt thinking about the match, or the next one, the season stretched out like an endless road. Sometimes David pretends that he’s asleep, and sometimes he offers Leo a drink or a midnight round of FIFA, and sometimes he just breathes along with Leo, looking out into the darkness and wondering if they’re seeing the same thing.

David pulls Leo closer to him and throws the blanket over them both. It’s strange, he thinks, how they went from a talk about death (well, sort of, anyway) to…this. This easy, relaxed comfort that comes so effortlessly when he’s around Leo. This feeling of warmth that has nothing to do with the blanket and everything to do with the man beside him, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip, aligned from breath to heartbeat.

“And then I make you unable to sleep too,” Leo says, with a hint of guilt as he looks at David.

“No, it’s not like that,” David says, because it’s not like Leo keeps him up due to excessive noise or movement or something. It’s a much deeper reason, something that moves David from the inside rather than the outside. “It’s not that you make me unable to sleep; you make me unwilling to sleep. That’s two different things.”

“Yeah,” Leo says quietly, after a while. “I guess it is.”

“And anyway, I’m fine,” David says. “You’re right. We’ve won the league already anyway _.”_

 _Not that I did much_ , he thinks, with more than a hint of bitterness, but he doesn’t let that show in his face. Or he tries, at least.

“And you’re right,” Leo says. “I get why you’re not happy, anyway.”

“You of all people should,” David says, with a half-wry, half-teasing smile.

Leo gives a faint smile back, and then they fall into silence for a while, each absorbed in his own thoughts. There is a slight heaviness in the air between them, but it’s not tense or suffocating, and David prefers it to the meaningless words that people exchange to fill up silence.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?” Leo finally asks.

“Depends,” David says, leaning back against his pillow, throwing Leo a lazy smile.

“On what?”

“Whether I get a dosage of my favourite drug.”

Leo raises his eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

“I think you can guess,” David tells him, and then rolls over, presses his mouth to Leo’s and savours the sensation – the warmth that pulses in his stomach, a ball of light, and rapidly spreads through the rest of his body like a Supernova – that no drug could ever come close to imitating.


	5. Of Birthday Wishes and Waking Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy Birthday,” David says to his computer screen, where the image of a sleepy Leo is wavering in and out of focus.
> 
> “Sorry,” Leo says, and then David can see him clearly, although not nearly as clearly as he wants, because Leo is still thousands of miles away from him, separated by five hours and a vast ocean. “My webcam was having some problems.”
> 
> David Skypes Leo on his birthday.

“Happy Birthday,” David says to his computer screen, where the image of a sleepy Leo is wavering in and out of focus.

“Sorry,” Leo says, and then David can see him clearly, although not nearly as clearly as he wants, because Leo is still thousands of miles away from him, separated by five hours and a vast ocean. “My webcam was having some problems.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“What did you say earlier?” Leo asks apologetically. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Happy Birthday,” David repeats.

“Thank you,” Leo says, and they just look at each other wordlessly, not because there’s not enough to say, but because there’s too much.

And because he’s such a genius at making small talk, David comes up with, “Did I wake you up?”

“Sort of,” Leo says. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Leo repeats, somehow softer and firmer at the same time.

David is at an utter loss for words again; he suffers from this a lot, especially around Leo. Usually it’s not a problem, because Leo’s not exactly a talkative person either, but it’s Leo’s birthday, and David wishes he could say something funny and meaningful and wise. Something great that can touch Leo even if David can’t.

“So how’s your birthday so far?” He really is a genius conversationalist. Someone should give him his own talk show.

“Well, I was having a nice dream, and then I got woken up because someone wanted to talk to me on Skype.” Leo’s smiling though, as he says it, and there’s no bite in his words.

“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday first,” David says, more defensively than he intended.

“You wished me a happy birthday in my dream,” Leo says, and there’s nothing peculiar about his voice, but David swears he hears an innuendo somewhere in there.

“Oh yeah? And how did I do that?”

“I’m too tired for Skype sex,” Leo says casually. David almost chokes on his spit.

He recovers quickly. “But isn’t that the best way to start off a birthday?”

“I think actual sex is the best way to start off a birthday,” Leo says with a completely straight face.

“You should book a plane ticket to Brazil and then we can get started on that,” David suggests, and it’s supposed to be just a joke, but it falls flat. Probably because he misses Leo, even though he saw him just a few weeks ago, even though he feels so happy to be playing for his country in a tournament again. It’s rather pathetic, he thinks, but that’s what Leo reduces him to sometimes.

“It’s _my_ birthday, aren’t you supposed to come visit _me_?” Leo is evidently a lot better at being lighthearted than David, although David can tell from the way his jaw tightens minutely that he knows.

“I’m visiting you in spirit,” David says, putting his hand over his chest. “Just pretend I’m there.”

“It’s hard,” Leo says softly. “I wish you were.”

David swallows, his nails digging into his palms as his hands clench into fists. “Me too,” he confesses, and then silence falls over them again, the kind that is emptying even if it isn’t empty.

“You’re doing well though,” Leo says, brightening. “I’m happy for you. Score against Italy, okay?”

“Of course I will,” David says. “Can’t just hand the Golden Boot to Torres, can I?”

“You’d better not.”

It’s about the least threatening threat David’s ever heard, especially since Leo is all sleep-mussed hair and pillow-creased cheeks. He looks tired, David notices with a pang of guilt at having woken him up at such an early hour. Their schedules don’t match up well, and David feels like whenever he’s free, Leo never is, and vice versa. He hates it, but there’s not much he can do. Separation is never pleasant, and the only thing he can do is treasure the small pockets of time together they do have, because every minute, no matter how little, is still something.

“I should let you get some sleep,” David says reluctantly.

“I’m fine,” Leo insists, but David knows better. He can see signs of Leo’s exhaustion, even if Leo’s trying to hide it.

“Maybe you can have another nice dream about me,” David says with a grin, “although your sheets probably won’t like that.”

Leo snorts softly, but there’s affection, warm and open, spelled out in his face. “I think it’s your turn to dream about me.”

“Good thing I don’t have any roommates.”

“Yes, good thing,” Leo says, and David doesn’t miss the way satisfaction gleams in his eyes at that piece of information. Oh, Leo.

“Go to sleep,” David says quietly. “You probably aren’t getting much rest lately.” He knows Leo doesn’t sleep well when he doesn’t get enough football, not that he would ever consider any amount of football ‘enough’ anyway.

“I’ll be okay.” Leo doesn’t look very happy to say it, but he murmurs “Good night,” his words split off by a massive yawn. He’s probably been holding that in for a while, not wanting David to know that he’s tired.

“Good night,” David echoes, and they look at each other for a long time, neither of them wanting to leave just yet. Goodbyes are such nasty things, David thinks, there’s never a right time for them.

“Sweet dreams,” Leo says, with a faint, teasing smile, and then his image blacks out and David’s left with a heavy chest and a log out message on his computer screen.

It’s a couple of hours until he plans to sleep, but David flops onto his bed anyway, laces his fingers together and pillows his head on them. He closes his eyes and he sees Leo smiling, and he’s perfectly awake but he almost feels like he’s dreaming.


	6. Treasure This Moment, Swallow That Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo is happy for Xavi, genuinely, deeply happy, but he can’t shake off the faint aura of gloom that’s been clinging to him like a shroud, he can’t smile with all of his mouth and heart.
> 
> There’s something to be unsaid about how it feels to watch one of your best friends tie the knot with his other half while his own other half is—
> 
> Well, he would rather not think about it right now. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about David constantly and restlessly, and it’s not like thinking about him all the time has made it any easier to accept his departure.

Leo is happy for Xavi, genuinely, deeply happy, but he can’t shake off the faint aura of gloom that’s been clinging to him like a shroud, he can’t smile with all of his mouth and heart.

There’s something to be said about how it feels to watch one of your best friends tie the knot with his other half while his own other half is—

Well, he would rather not think about it right now. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about David constantly and restlessly, and it’s not like thinking about him all the time has made it any easier to accept his departure.

“Love sucks,” Leo says aloud, savouring his moment of solitude before he has to shake off all his melancholy and join the wedding party.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

That voice is unmistakable.

“You’re here.”

If his life was a movie, he would jump up with his heart singing and him and David would run to each other and tightly embrace, while sappy music played in the background.

But his life is not a movie. If it was, David wouldn’t have left him.

“You sound so happy about that,” David says dryly.

For a second Leo thinks that David’s saying he’s happy about David’s departure, and a hot, sharp retort is already at the tip of his tongue, but then he realizes that David’s actually addressing his cool remark.

Leo looks at him for a moment, just looks at him. David looks good, clean-shaven and fresh-faced, dressed in a crisp suit, although the first two buttons are undone and a tie is nowhere to be seen. It makes the outfit more…him, for some reason.

“Do I have something on my face?” David asks, sounding rather amused, but he’s looking at Leo just as intently as Leo’s looking at him, like he’s trying to brand the memory of Leo’s face permanently into his mind.

Leo wonders if this is how it’ll be from on for the two of them, with so much unfulfilled yearning and more goodbyes than hellos.

“No,” Leo says, shaking his head, partly to deny the question and mostly to clear his depressing thoughts. It’s easier said than done though. “You look nice.”

“You look nice too,” David says, lines fanning around his eyes when he smiles. Leo wonders if he’s imagining how those lines look deeper than ever. David reaches out to straighten Leo’s collar, smoothing his fingers down Leo’s neat blue tie.

“I was wondering where this went,” David says, flipping the tie over and brushing his fingers over a black splotch on the fabric. “Remember when I burned this when ironing it?”

“I don’t know why you ironed a tie in the first place,” Leo says dryly, mostly to hide his drying throat. He can’t believe he picked David’s tie without even realizing, thinking it was one of his own.

“Eh, I was probably drunk,” David says, and the thought of him _ironing_ of all things while inebriated makes a laugh bubble in Leo’s gut and burst involuntarily from his lips.

It’s the first time he’s laughed since David called him with the fateful news of his transfer, and it’s also the first time they’ve spoken on good terms since then.

“Only you would wear a tie with a big burn mark to a wedding,” David says, affection clear in his voice.

“Xavi wouldn’t care.”

“True,” David acknowledges. “Then again, he’s so nervous right now I don’t think he even notices any of the guests.”

“He’s nervous?” This is news to Leo.

“Scared out of his wits,” David confirms. “You wouldn’t expect it from him, but this is the most jittery I’ve ever seen him by far.”

“Well, he’s getting married,” Leo says. “People tend to get nervous when they’re getting married.”

Not that he would know. It’s not like he’s ever been married.

As if reading his mind, David asks, “How do you think you would feel if you were in Xavi’s place?”

Leo tilts his head in thought. “I’d probably lose my voice and go hide in a bathroom until Cesc and Geri find me and drag me out.”

David laughs so hard he has to lean into Leo to keep his balance. Leo adjusts his posture to best support David’s weight without even thinking about it. Maybe it’s just the position, but he feels like David is lighter than he remembers, lighter than he’s supposed to be.

“Have you been eating?” Leo doesn’t even think before the question escapes his lips.

David’s expression sobers. “Have _you_?” he shoots back, surprisingly sharply.

“Yes,” Leo says, more defensively than he intended, probably because he wasn’t answering fully truthfully. He _has_ been eating, just not properly. It was hard to have a good appetite after…that.

“I’m not crying over you or anything, if that’s what you think,” Leo says, rather huffily.

David gives a short laugh that’s nothing like the one Leo heard just a minute ago. “Trust me, I don’t have that high of an opinion of myself.”

“I beg to differ,” Leo mutters under his breath, and if David hears him, he doesn’t say anything.

“Leo.” David’s face has softened, which just makes Leo feel worse, because he would rather have David be terse and angry. Then Leo would have an excuse to be terse and angry too, he would have an excuse to snap at David and maybe be able to alleviate some of the terrible pressure steadily building in his chest.

“I know our last conversation didn’t end on a good note,” David starts, his voice careful. “We both said some regrettable things—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He really doesn’t.

“Fine, we don’t have to,” David says, “but we do have to talk.”

“Why?” Leo knows he’s being childish and petulant, but he can’t help it. David brings out the best in him, but the worst too, because he makes Leo lose all of his sensibility and self-control. Not that he had a lot in the first place.

“You don’t want to talk?” David seems to be finally losing his temper. “You just want to ignore me when you see me from now on?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to be seeing you a lot anyway.”

David’s face softens again. “That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Leo’s mouth pulls down at the corners. “What, it doesn’t bother you too?”

“Of course it does,” David says, so candidly that it makes Leo start and stare at him. “Leo, the truth is—”

“You want to see other people?” Leo guesses dully, with the hollow pang of expectancy. “You don’t think long-distance relationships are for you?”

Unexpectedly, David smiles. “Madrid and Barcelona aren’t exactly on opposite sides of the world, Leo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” And here David pauses just to look at him again, like Leo’s fascinating or something, like he can’t ever tire of watching him. “It means this,” David murmurs, his voice half an octave lower out of the blue, and then his lips press against Leo’s.

Leo makes a startled noise against his mouth, something half a gasp and half a “David,” and it apparently sounds like encouragement to David, who kisses him harder, winds a hand into his hair and holds him securely against David’s warm, solid body.

“And what does that mean?” Leo whispers when he gets a tiny shred of sensibility and self-control back. Just enough not to press David against the nearest somewhat flat surface and kiss the hell out of him.

“Do you really need to ask?” David returns with a slight smile.

Leo almost replies with an instant _yes_ , but then he decides it’s not really fair for David to have to be the mature, patient one while Leo crosses his arms over his chest and sulks.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Leo mumbles, half to his shoes.

“Me too.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” David’s voice is very gentle.

“Stop being so nice and understanding and—just. It doesn’t suit you. What happened to the grumpy David Villa I know and love?”

A laugh. “He got kind of scared off when Xavi grabbed him by the shirt collar and ranted for half an hour about how he’s not ready and he’s scared that she’ll run off when she finds out how he wears his socks to bed and likes to alphabetize the spice racks and watches Norwegian football when he can’t sleep.”

“Norwegian?”

“Or was it Swedish? It was one of those two.”

“And what do you do?” Leo can’t help but wonder.

“What do I do?”

“Those weird little idiosyncrasies,” Leo clarifies. “What do you do?”

“You’ll find out if you marry me,” David says, a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

“This isn’t a proposal, is it?” Leo teases.

“No, not exactly,” David laughs. “You’ll have to wait a couple of years for that. I think Xavi effectively scared me off the idea of marriage.”

Leo smiles hesitantly at David, who smiles back and pulls him in for another kiss, one that’s slow and languid and leaves Leo’s head spinning.

“So I’m not worth crying over?” David asks playfully.

“No,” Leo says reflexively, and then grins at the mock hurt look on David’s face. “There isn’t anything to cry over now, is there?”

David smiles, happy and carefree, and it’s an expression Leo vows to remember forever, because this is how it should be between them, happy and carefree, although Leo knows these days won’t last. All the more reason to treasure this moment then.

“No,” David agrees. “It’s a wedding, after all. And if you don’t want Fàbregas and Piqué charging after us with bloodhounds, we’d better get moving.”

Leo says a very colourful word. “We’re late, aren’t we?”

“That’s a big understatement right now,” David says, and takes his hand as they start running like the open goal is right in front of them.

And Leo shoves thoughts about yearning and goodbyes into the back of his head, because David’s hand is in his, and it’s warm and firm, and David’s right, Barcelona and Madrid aren’t far apart, and it’s a wedding after all, and—

Leo breathes and smiles and keeps running, firmly by David’s side.


	7. My Greatest Intoxication Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo has a boring office job, and there's a bar that he frequents. David is the new bartender there.

“I’ll have a…a Shirley Temple,” Leo blurts out the first non-alcoholic cocktail he can think of. Not that he knows many. He would love to down a generous shot of vodka right now, but considering how he has a meeting that can determine his future tomorrow (or at least if he’ll get the promotion he’s been eyeing for months), it’s probably not a good idea to get drunk.

“With an umbrella or without?” The bartender asks with a grin. He’s pretty good-looking, Leo can’t help but notice. It’s strange that Leo hasn’t seen him before.

“Without.”

“Are you sure? Our umbrellas are custom-made with imported origami paper.”

Leo gives him a strange look. “I know it’s a bar and all, but considering how you’re working, shouldn’t you not be drunk?”

“What can I say?” He shrugs. “Drunkenness is contagious.”

“Well, if they’re so special, I guess I’ll take one,” Leo says wryly. His niece has been fascinated with origami lately; she’ll probably love it.

“Good choice,” he says. “Here’s your drink.” He slides a glass of pink liquid, garnished with a maraschino cherry and a (very nice, Leo has to admit) umbrella, over.

Leo blinks. “That was fast.”

“What can I say? They wouldn’t have hired me if I don’t do a good job.”

“Are you new here?”

“Today’s my second day, actually.” He smiles; his front teeth are a little crooked, but it doesn’t look like a flaw on him. “You’re probably more familiar with this place than I am.”

“Probably,” Leo agrees. He’s quite a regular, after all. This bar has a nice atmosphere, and it’s one of the few bars around here that serves finely aged wine, so he’s quite fond of it. “Do you like it here?”

The bartender shrugs. “It’s alright. It’s still a bar. Nice break from medical school though.”

“Medical school?” Leo’s eyes are probably bugging out.

“What, med students can’t work as bartenders?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised at what people do to pay those student debts.”

Leo nods. Fair enough. “I’m Leo,” he offers.

“David. You haven’t touched your drink yet.”

Leo starts. To be honest, he’s forgotten about his drink, engrossed in conversation with David. He raises the glass to his lips, taking a cautious sip.

“Hmm, it’s good.” He takes another gulp, larger this time. The drink has a pleasant zing in his mouth. “I like it.”

David leans forward on his elbows, a smile blooming across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Leo is usually not one for small talk, but he finds that it comes easily with David. They’re both football fans, and David still plays with a team formed at his university. Besides having a knack for making alcoholic drinks, David’s also a cook. Leo confesses that he doesn’t know how to make much more than grilled cheese sandwiches and spaghetti, and David just laughs.

Before Leo knows it, it’s getting late, and David has several impatient people waiting to place an order.

“Sorry,” Leo says sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to hog you like that.”

David waves away his apology. “You can hog me any time you want.”

“I, uh, have to go,” Leo says, pointing to his watch. “I have an important meeting tomorrow.”

“Good luck.” David smiles, and Leo takes the warmth in that smile with him as he walks to his car. It’s going to be a long night.

 

Leo returns to David’s bar (as he’s started to think of it, although David just started there) the next day, barely able to contain his smile.

“I guess the meeting went well, then?” David’s dressed casually, in a T-shirt and jeans, and he’s sitting at the bar rather than behind it. At Leo’s surprised look, he explains, “I’m not working today. But I figured you’d come by, so.”

Leo smiles. “Are you going to buy me a drink, then?”

As a response, David passes him a can of coke. “On me.”

“Coke?”

“Come on,” David says. “I want to take you somewhere. Leo looks at him questioningly, but he just smiles. “It’s a surprise.”

“Okay.” Leo follows him out of the bar. The night air is welcome and cool against his skin, and he feels a simple kind of contentment that he hasn’t for a long while. “You’re not some kind of crazy serial killer who’s taking me to my doom, are you?”

David laughs so hard he clutches a hand to his stomach. “What if I was? What would you do?”

Leo narrows his eyes. “Stab you with an origami umbrella, maybe.”

“Those things are deadly. Paper cuts are nasty wounds, you know.”

“You sound familiar with that.”

David grins. “You have to know some self-defence if you’re going to sell alcoholic beverages to stifled middle-aged men.”

“At least I’m not a stifled middle-aged man,” Leo says. “Well, not middle-aged, at least.”

“You’re stifled?”

“Sometimes.” Leo thinks about his boring office job, sitting in front of his computer all day, in his barely-bigger-than-two-broom-closets office. The most exciting thing that happens is when the coffee maker breaks and Alves, whose office is next door, tries to ‘fix’ it through incessant banging and cursing.

“We all are,” David says knowingly. “You think med school is fun? I only signed up because my parents want me to be a doctor. Then again, if I had it my way, I’d play football for a living.”

“I can’t imagine doing that,” Leo says, a little wistfully. “Getting paid for doing something I love.”

“Everyone’s dream.” David stops suddenly. “We’re here.”

They’re in a park, with lots of people sitting on spread out blankets, and a huge screen mounted by some trees. It’s not dark yet, but the lights that are set up around the screen seem to glow extra brightly.

“An outdoor movie screening,” Leo says, a little awed. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”

“Well.” David smiles. “Here’s your chance. I even got us drinks.” He pulls out another can of coke from his bag.

“Bringing soda, when you make such a mean cocktail.” Leo clucks his tongue.

“Hey, I can’t work all the time.”

“What movie is playing?”

“Who knows? It doesn’t matter; it’s about the atmosphere.” Leo agrees with that. David takes out a bag of popcorn, the kind you put in the microwave. “Want to light a campfire and make some popcorn?”

“You’re crazy,” Leo laughs.

David grins. “The good kind of crazy. So, you in?”

“Actually,” Leo says, popping open his coke. “I prefer s’mores.”

“Well, sorry, I didn’t think to bring s’mores ingredients to a movie. But I make a mean s’mores martini.”

Leo had no idea there’s such a thing as a s’mores martini, but suddenly his mouth is watering for it. “Will you make me one?”

“One day,” David promises, and he takes Leo’s hand as the movie starts.

Leo doesn’t know if it’s the atmosphere, with the leaves shivering faintly in the calm breeze, the movie’s audio sounding pleasantly amplified in the open space, or just the warmth of David’s hand in his own, but his coke tastes like the sweetest drink he’s ever had.

 

And so, LeoandDavid become a thing in Leo’s life. They catch movies, and always share a smile when their hands touch reaching for popcorn. Leo thinks that no movie could ever compare to that night in the park though, although he likes the way David grips tightly onto his arm during horror movies (he would never admit it, but Leo knows he’s scared).

It turns out that David wasn’t exaggerating about his culinary skills either. His paella is so full of flavour that Leo doesn’t think he’ll ever want to eat anything else. He’s no slouch in the desserts department either; he makes a killer chocolate mousse that will probably put an extra inch around Leo’s waist, but it’s more than worth it.

“So?” David asks expectantly, after Leo tries his s’mores martini. The skewer with a toasted marshmallow lying on the crushed graham cracker-sprinkled rim looks really tempting, but he leaves it alone for now.

“Chocolate-y,” Leo says, licking his lips. He wouldn’t say the drink tastes just like s’mores, but it’s definitely a nice taste, sweet and rich without being overwhelming. “You don’t get one?”

“I try to lay off the alcohol,” David says, jerking his finger towards the skyscraper of textbooks on his desk. “Those lab reports don’t write themselves.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re still slaving through medical school.”

“Why? Because I scream ‘bartender’ instead of ‘doctor’?”

“No, it’s just that…” Leo frowns as he tries to figure out how to word what he wants to say. “Maybe it’s presumptuous of me, but I think of med students as really stuffy and academic. But you’re. Fun.”

“It _is_ pretty presumptuous of you,” David says, but he’s smiling. “Trust me, I can be plenty stuffy and academic. My lit roommate used to call me pedantic.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Neither did I,” David says. “I was too lazy to look it up for ages. But it basically means what you just said.” He grins, suddenly. “But hey, you’ve seen my fun side. I can be a cool guy.”

“Definitely.” Leo smiles, and takes another sip of his martini. The chocolate liquor makes his blood feel warm in his veins, and the sweetness leaves his mouth dry and wanting. He leans in and kisses David, who presses him back against the kitchen table, lips heated, coaxing Leo’s to part.

David’s hand is cold against Leo’s stomach when he slips it beneath Leo’s shirt, and although Leo’s first instinct is to shiver, he leans into David’s touch anyway.

“Come to bed with me,” David breathes, tracing a shape with his fingertip against Leo’s skin. Leo’s not sure, but it feels like a heart.

Leo looks at David, whose eyes are dark with desire but soft with affection. There’s not much to consider. “Okay.”

In his bed, somehow David’s hands don’t feel as cold. His mouth is incredibly warm as he rains kisses down Leo’s neck and chest, and he has this way of biting down that is much more arousing than painful.

“I’m going to be covered in marks tomorrow,” Leo says, although he doesn’t really care. Not if the marks are from David.

“Good,” David says simply, and he shoots Leo a smile that makes heat creep up his spine like fingers of flame dancing across his skin.

Leo thinks that David is often quite like the drinks that he serves: dynamic, intoxicating… addictive. And Leo is drunk on him, but it’s the kind of intoxication that he never wants to rid himself of.

“You all right?” David asks him afterwards, their sweaty forms half-covered by a blanket, legs lazily tangled together.

“Better than all right,” Leo says, smiling. “Did you slip an aphrodisiac into that martini?”

David makes a contemplative noise. “I don’t know if I should be offended that you think I need one, or flattered that you feel this good.”

“How about ready to go again?” Leo suggests, winding his arms around David’s neck, pulling him closer.

David laughs and skims his nose along the line of Leo’s jaw. “That feeling, I like.”

The tide of warmth that rushes in his stomach when David’s lips meet his again, the sparks that flash behind his close eyelids like summer lightning – it’s a feeling that no amount of alcohol could ever come close to.

 

“You look so nervous,” Leo says, adjusting David’s tie. “Breathe.”

“It’s not every day you graduate from medical school.”

“That’s true, and also, since you’re finally graduating, it’d be a really bad idea to sweat through your tux, don’t you think?”

David breathes out exaggeratedly. “Can you loosen my tie a bit? I feel like I’m choking.”

“That’s because you’re nervous.”

“It’s not every day—” David gets cut off when Leo kisses him, soundly on the lips.

“For luck.” Leo smiles at him, and lets go of his collar. “Come on, if you’re not scared of telling a man with arms the size of your waist to get out of the bar, you can handle this.”

“That’s not like saying if you’re not scared of facing down a boardroom of executives, you should have no problem with my parents.”

Leo pushes him towards the door. “You can do this. We’ll go out for drinks later. My treat.”

“I have a fully stocked bar at home—”

“You’re the one who said you can’t work every day,” Leo points out. “You should relax before you get some big job at a hospital and have no time for sleep, not to mention making drinks.”

“Come on Leo, I’m going to be a doctor, not a zombie hunter.”

“Can you get a job as a zombie hunter?”

David just smiles. “I’ll let you know if they’re asking for one.”

“That’d be nice,” Leo says, and then, more seriously, “You’ve worked really hard all these years. It took a lot to get to today. Try to enjoy it.”

David exhales. “Right. I know you’re right. It’s just. Sometimes when everything is going your way, it feels like it’s too good to be true, you know? It feels like a dream or something, and I don’t want to wake up.”

“I know what that’s like,” Leo says quietly. These past months with David have often felt like that. “But…” He takes hold of David’s arm, and pinches him.

David looks at him indignantly. “What was that for?”

Leo smiles. “You’re awake.”

David snorts, but his mouth pulls up at the corners. “Don’t wrinkle my tux. Man, it took two weeks’ salary just to pay for this.”

“Tell me the truth,” Leo says. “You’re going to miss your job, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” David says. “The tips are just… If you charm them a little, I swear, you can live off your tips.”

Leo can’t help but frown at the “if you charm them a little.” He knows a big part of bartending comes down to charisma, but he doesn’t like the idea of David getting personal with his customers just to make some more money.

“So,” he says, rather brusquely. “You’ll miss the tips.”

“And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll meet a really great customer,” David says with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’d tell you more about it, but I have a ceremony today,” David says. “Some might say it’s pretty damn important.”

“You’d better get going then.”

“Remember, you promised me drinks later!”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Leo smiles. “I’m in the mood for something in particular.”

“What is it?” David looks at him curiously.

“A Shirley Temple. With a handmade origami umbrella made of imported paper.”

David returns the smile. “Hmm, I wonder where you’ll get that.”

“Well, I know a great guy who served me one of these a long time ago…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outdoor movie screening is inspired by the movie _The Wedding Planner_. I just thought it seemed like a neat place for a date, especially a first date.


	8. Forget Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo closes his eyes and lets David’s laughter wash over him, pictures the lines fanning out around the corners of his eyes, the uneven flash of his front teeth, the way his hair falls over his forehead when there’s no gel in it. He’s not imagining, he’s remembering, but the image is not as vivid as he would like. Memory is too fallible; it can’t hold on to everything, and it can’t win against time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written Messilla in a while, so I'm pretty rusty. The first half was written at 3am and is pretty good, and the second half was written at 2am and is very forced and quite sucky to be honest. I just wanted to finish this, because I know that if I left it any longer I would never complete it.
> 
> Title is after the flower, because I'm lame like that.

Leo is half-heartedly listening to Kun talking about a café he went to earlier in the day (he’s amazed by how many places Kun’s been to already; Leo’s usually either at the training grounds or the hotel, and his mind is always, always on the pitch) when his phone rings.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sliding it out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. The number is from America. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, holding it, lungs unsure, heartbeat uneven.

“Important call?” Gonzalo asks knowingly.

“I have to take this,” Leo says. “Sergio, sorry—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kun says easily. “I’ll give you a special encore retell tonight.”

“I’m flattered,” Leo says dryly. “Looking forward to it.”

Kun looks like he’s going to say something in reply, but Leo is already turning away, his hand on the phone and mind on the call.

Once he’s alone in the hallway, he picks up. “David?” He lowers his voice, even though there’s no one around.

“Hey,” David says.

“Hi.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Leo raises his voice marginally. “Well. I’m not in my room right now.”

“Well.” There’s a smile, lazy and curling, in David’s voice. “Maybe you should go there. What if I wanted to have a more…private conversation?”

Leo’s face warms, but his voice remains steady when he speaks. “David, I’m not—doing this with you over the phone.”

“Doing what?”

“David.”

He laughs, and the sound is as warm and rich as ever. Leo closes his eyes and lets David’s laughter wash over him, pictures the lines fanning out around the corners of his eyes, the uneven flash of his front teeth, the way his hair falls over his forehead when there’s no gel in it. He’s not imagining, he’s remembering, but the image is not as vivid as he would like. Memory is too fallible; it can’t hold on to everything, and it can’t win against time.

“Leo?”

He swallows. “Hmm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah.” Leo’s throat is still dry; his chest is oddly tight. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I called to…” David clears his throat. “It’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah.” Leo had almost forgotten. He’s more fixated on the match against Colombia in three days. “Yeah, it is.”

“So – I just wanted to, you know. Say happy birthday.” David stops there, for a moment. Leo can hear someone breathing, and he can’t tell whether it’s him or David. “So.”

“So,” Leo repeats.

“Happy Birthday, Leo,” David says softly.

“Thank you,” Leo replies automatically, mechanically. He wants to say something else, something more, but his tongue feels like a knot and he can’t unravel any of the words he wants to say.

“Good luck against Colombia.” David’s voice is still so soft. Leo wants to wrap himself up in it, wants to wrap himself up in David, but David is so far away.

“Will you watch the match?” Leo blurts out.

“Leo.” David laughs again, like it’s a ridiculous question. “I watch all your matches, and when I can’t, I tape them.”

Leo fights to keep his smile at bay. Fails. “That’s—I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you should.”

“I do now.”

“Good.” He can hear the smile in David’s voice. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” Leo says softly, and he thinks that the distance between them isn’t so vast after all, because they may be far away from each other, but they’re not far apart.

And that’s what makes all the difference.


End file.
